The Camp Fire Girls Do Their Bit eBook

CHAPTER XVII

THE DRILL CONTEST

While the Winnebagos were gasping under the cold shower
of upsetting events, time marched steadily onward
toward the day set for the military drill contest
between Oakwood and Hillsdale. In these last days
the Winnebagos realized what it meant to have the
honor of a town on their shoulders. Although
they had little heart for drilling they must turn
out every day with their company of Oakwood girls just
as if nothing had happened, must be the life and brains
of the company and never appear to let their enthusiasm
flag. Everyone in town depended upon them to win
the contest for Oakwood; everywhere they went they
were greeted with pleasant smiles and complimentary
remarks; they were touched and flattered by the confidence
that was reposed in them—­they simply had
to win that contest for Oakwood. No one else knew
anything about Veronica; that was kept a state secret.
The Winnebagos simply told Miss Raper that she had
been called out of town and would not be in the contest,
and Miss Raper chose another girl to put in her place.

Migwan and Gladys and Hinpoha were sitting together
getting the suits ready which they were to wear in
the drill—­white skirts and middies, white
shoes and stockings, red, white and blue arm band—­when
Sahwah came in waving an envelope over her head.
“Letter from Nyoda!” she called.
The three dropped their sewing and fell upon her in
a body.

“Open it quick!”

“Here, take the scissors.”

“Oh, read it out loud, Migwan, I can’t
wait until it’s passed around.”

Migwan promptly complied while the rest listened eagerly
as she read:

Good Samaritan Hospital, St. Margaret’s,
N.S.

DEAR GIRLS:

Oh, I’m so thankful I can
hardly write; my pen wants to dance jigs instead
of staying on the lines, but I must let you know at
once because I know how anxious you have been.
Sherry is out of danger, he rounded the corner today,
and there isn’t much doubt about his recovery.

But if you had ever seen the day I arrived—!
I got to St. Margaret’s in the afternoon,
tumbled into the first cab that stood outside the
station; begged the driver to lose no time getting
to the hospital, and went rattledly banging over
the rough streets as though we were fleeing from
the German army. The hospital was filled to overflowing
with the survivors of the wreck, all of whom had
been brought into the port of St. Margaret’s.
Beds were everywhere—­in the offices, in
the corridors, in the entries. It took me some
time to locate Sherry because there was so much
confusion, but I found him at last in one of the wards.

As I came up I heard a doctor who had
been attending him say to the
nurse beside him, “It’s all
up with him, poor chap.”

Then he turned around and saw me standing
there, and I said quietly, “I
am his wife.”